


Quick Fix

by SerenePhenix



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, depiction of depression and symptoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 12:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11417925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenePhenix/pseuds/SerenePhenix
Summary: Hunk noticed that something was not alright with Lance. Maybe it was high time they had a talk. That's what friends are there for.





	Quick Fix

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that Allura is not the villain. Allura is the leader of a group fighting a war. She has to make the hardest decisions and I think she is painfully aware of that fact. And I greatly admire her for her strength and willingness to take on the burden her father left her with.
> 
> The real enemy in this is homesickness and people not properly communicating. (and depression)
> 
> Based on this prompt: https://taylor-tut.tumblr.com/post/162655857018/but-like-hear-me-out-lance-already-feels-so

He wanted to get a grip on it. He needed to get a grip on it.

But he just couldn’t.

Lance did not know when it had gotten out of hand like this, couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when his whole inner world had collapsed. Funny thing was: he could not even say if he meant this literally or not.

Because _fuck_ did everything hurt at this point.

Because, right where his heart should be, (a little off to the left to center of his chest. how could he tell so exactly? it came with the condition) there was nothing but a deep gaping chasm. Just something dark and bottomless greedily sucking in emotions, feelings, thoughts… and memories.

Lance had felt it forming slowly. And he had been stupid enough not to give it too much thought. He knew the drill, knew how to squash down his longing for his family, his little sibs, his older sisters and brothers, for his grand-parents, for his dad… for his mom.

The hole had already shown itself multiple times, not just at the Garrison when he was away for months on end, but on school trips, on vacation with friends, even on that vacation he had spent with Hunk and his family and Lance still felt bad for that one evening where he had told Hunk that despite their efforts, he still kind of missed home.

(Bless Hunk for having been understanding. For having offered he go back home despite all the stuff they had planned for that summer. But that reassurance was enough for Lance to actually not do it, to stay, and to enjoy the lazy days as much as possible.)

It all seemed to come down to the fact that, no matter where on Earth, he still would have been able to somehow get back to his family, to reach them at the very least and hear their voices, their reassurances, their encouragements, their teasing. Their love for him.

But if space was anything, then it was dark, and vast, and empty.

At least, it felt pretty empty even though Lance knew it wasn’t true.

But his brain was not really into supplying him with reliable or even correct information, opting to rather give him the bleakest outlooks it could conjure up at random anywhere, anytime.

_You’re not going to see them again._

_Do you have_ any _idea how heartbroken your mom probably is?_

_You’re the worst._

It was a battle at two fronts. And when it came to the pesky little comments, Lance had somewhat taught himself how to handle them: breathe in once, imagine plucking up these sentences out of the air like feathers, then drop them and kick them as far away as possible.

It was something he had needed to learn at the Garrison, when the teachers had become very particular about making him (or anyone else for that matter) feel especially bad about themselves. Probably because these people could only dream of doing what they were going to do someday.

There were comments that were harder to ignore but Lance’s father always told him that it was him who had to choose not to believe these things, that he could help him and support him in this endeavor, but that he was the one who had to do the fighting ultimately.

And Lance had taken that advice seriously. He would be eternally grateful to his father for it.

Yet, Lance still did not know what to do about the constant pain in his chest.

The pain he had grown so used to over the time he had spent in space that he no longer had to try and catch his breath in the morning when he awoke, that had made him pound and rub and scratch at the skin just above his heart in some sort of futile attempt to alleviate it, that had made it hard to get comfortable no matter where he was sitting or standing, that had made his throat hurt from exertion when he tried to act in his casually loud way and laugh with the others.

It had already been noticeable on Arus, had become a minor inconvenience after confronting Zarkon the first time, had set him on edge as they started planning their final assault and finally derailed after they lost Shiro and sent all of the team into a loop.

Now, not only did he miss the family that he had left back on Earth ( _without a warning. without a note.)_ but the one they had tentatively tried to form here up in space was slowly falling apart as they grieved and searched and wondered. Wondered about where Shiro had disappeared to, wondered what was to become of Voltron, wondered how they could make things right again.

He knew Allura and Kolivan were determined to go on, as was everybody else apparently. Their victory was crucial, but it was but the beginning of an actually much longer fight.

And that was where Lance had put all of his concentration, every ounce of willpower into not crying in front of everyone, in front of his leaders and teammates.

He wanted home. He wanted to see his blood family.

Why was Allura always going back on this every single time? Why was no one speaking up, calling her out?

He did not really hate her for it. He knew that what they were doing was important, understood what was at stake. But…

He was tired. He was so incredibly tired.

Tired of fighting this war where he constantly feared for the others, for himself, and where he had seen things he wished he could forever wipe from his memory.

Tired of pretending that he was not crushed every time they were told it would take longer for them to get home.

Tired of having to hold himself together when he was constantly picking up the pieces of himself, putting them back in place with glue that never worked, that never had enough time to dry.

He was tired of himself, of his constant inner whining and anger and sadness and longing.

He was tired of even starting to make Blue feel bad: Blue who was trying to help and soothe and reassure but was ultimately as powerless as Lance when it came to granting his deepest wish.

He was tired of being so scared of the pain and numbness overtaking him one of these days.

He was tired.

* * *

 

Hunk knew something was off with Lance and he had a pretty good idea what it was.

It was something vital about his friend that he somehow managed to forget about in the past few months, only because they were pretty much trying not to die out here and also because Lance had kept suspiciously quiet about it.

Not many people would believe him when he said it, but Lance actually did put a lot of effort in keeping up morale, just not in the very obvious way of flirting and joking even if it did somewhat contribute.

Hunk had come to understand that Lance, when needed, could put things (the really, really important things) on backburner and concentrate on the task at hand with very little substantial complaint.

Not that he didn’t complain, but Hunk knew those were about inconsequential, unimportant matters even Lance did not consider worthy of that much attention. But complaining was entertaining and would get others to talk and engage with him.

No.

What Hunk meant were the things Lance locked up and put so much effort into hiding that by the end of it, he was drained and wrung out. Hunk had seen it more than once, and although never as overdramatic as his friend’s purposefully displays of teenage stubbornness, those moments were very much real and hurt. It hurt because somehow, when Lance was at his lowest he became just as good at infecting people with his emotions as when he was at his absolute best.

And lately, Hunk had noticed, Lance was pretty much never at his best.

If anything, he’d have to say that Lance was somehow fading in front of his eyes. And it scared him.

Sure, Lance smiled and cheered and flirted and talked but there was something vital missing in it. A certain spark, a certain vitality that was so Lance it couldn’t be overlooked.

He had seen his best friend at some low points in his life. But just by remembering those and comparing that to what he was seeing now… Hunk knew it would get ugly. Real ugly.

He was mentally steeling himself as he prepared a new batch of cookies, scaultrite-less and hopefully edible this time.

He had had this planned for some time now. It needed to be addressed eventually, better sooner rather than later, and he would need time and privacy for this. It would be unfair and cruel towards Lance to put him on the spot in front of the others even if it might make everyone finally aware that there was something going very wrong with their team dynamic.

He did not need to be a genius mechanic to understand that this whole thing was going to blow up if even just one of them broke under the strain.

Hunk could even admit to himself that he was starting to have issues. The nightmares were frequent and he was taught and restless more often than not. But at least he had his cooking and tinkering with Pidge and lately, despite them not having had a chance to form Voltron, his bond with Yellow was growing stronger and the Lion’s presence was a huge relief.

But as far as Hunk had become aware as of late (so many little things that he was starting to pick up on now that he’d grown suspicious), Lance did not really have much to occupy himself with when they were not in battle. Or just not anything enjoyable or amusive. Coran was keeping them all on their toes with chores and the likes but apart from that… nothing that sort of correlated with any of the things Lance had liked to do back on Earth.

Lance loved to listen to music on end (loudly), loved going to town and just hang out with him on one of the benches while watching people, the both of them guessing about gossip and coming up with life stories for these strangers while the ice-scream they were eating slowly became runny and coated their fingers in a sticky, sugary mess. He loved talking with new people, even the ones where all of Hunk’s inner instincts (which Lance obviously did not possess) warned him.

Lance was social and needed company to be happy.

But more than anything, Lance needed his family.

And as of late, those seemed to be about the only things that this huge empty Castle, with a constantly tired skeleton crew, could not provide.

Hunk did not necessarily feel bad that he could not give Lance all the attention he needed, simply because of the many missions and because his skills were constantly needed in the hangars or on the bridge or by Pidge, but because it had taken him this long to remember these essential facts and because it had taken him this long to notice how bad it had gotten by now.

Lance had been trying hard and Hunk wanted to allow him to let go for a moment. That was the least he could do. Because ultimately, there was not much he could do about Lance getting back into contact with his family.

And if he were being honest, he felt pretty homesick too.

* * *

 

He found Lance in Blue’s hangar eventually; cleaning the lion with supplies Coran had provided them with.

Lance had been down here a lot lately. Probably because even if Lance started crying in front of his girl, there was no way she could snitch on him. The perks of a Lion that could not speak to anyone but her pilot, Hunk guessed.

Lance did not even seem to notice him entering, scrubbing clean the claws of a paw that was raised so that he could reach its underside. As adorable as it looked, Hunk could only focus on Lance’s face.

Now that he wasn’t trying to act happy and enthusiastic, the fatigue was evident.

It made Hunk’s heart plummet a little.

“Hey!”

His call had Lance blinking slowly, head turning in his direction. It was somewhat funny to watch as Lance’s brain seemed to catch up to the fact that he was no longer alone, brow scrunched up in slight confusion but it did worry Hunk just how long the whole process took, as though Lance had to struggle hard to pull himself back to reality.

He did not know what it meant, because he had never witnessed something of the likes in his friend. The worry mingled with something colder and sharper, with the anxiety Hunk and started to finally get a grip on with this lifestyle. And now it came back, because Lance was very much acting unlike himself.

Soon enough there was a smile, convincing enough that Hunk could almost forget what he saw, play it off.

Almost.

Lance dropped the rag into a neon-pink bucket and patted Blue’s paw as he came to meet Hunk and the Lion gently lowered the appendage until she was sitting regal as ever but despite her aloof posture Hunk had the distinct feeling she was watching intently. Maybe she knew he was up to something. Hopefully, Lance did not because then he would just clamp up and Hunk would have to wait for awhile before he could approach him again. And that was time he felt he did not have.

“Hey Hunk, what you’re doing here? Wait, are those cookies!”

He skipped over to him, eyes alight. It sounded enthusiastic enough. Maybe Hunk was being too melodramatic and overanalyzing things. It’s what he did.

“Yeah, I think I managed to make something that comes close to it but I kind of need a taste tester.”

One of the crumbly treats was already snatched off the plate before he was even finished. Lance bit into it, crunching loudly. Lance made a show of his eyes rolling back into his head, his whole body going with the motion, and gave a sort of deep moan that was obnoxiously satisfying to hear.

“This is so good.” Lance finally said around a mouthful he had yet to swallow, restless fingers already going for for the next piece before Hunk quickly held it out of reach. He couldn’t help the small smile at Lance’s pout.

It gave him hope. Lance was not that far gone.

“Nope, these are to be savored, so we are not going to eat them like some filthy animals.”, he said firmly, nodding his head to a kind of nook with a metal bench, “Let’s sit down. I even got something to drink.”

He twitched his leg, so that Lance could see his tool belt he had misused as a bag to carry some water pouches hanging from his hip.

Lance gave him a look but luckily there was no suspicion in those blue eyes.

Once they were sat, plate between them and sipping on their water and hands going for the cookies once in a while, Lance seemed to relax, droop even if Hunk were being honest.

Lance really was good at taking care of himself and his appearance, simply because Hunk only now noticed the bruises forming under his eyes. Bruises pretty much every human on this ship was starting to sport at this point.

It was a good silence, the kind of silence that was companionable and easy. A routine.

And now of all times Hunk did start to feel bad, because maybe this was what he should have done from the very start. Just hang out for a few minutes. Maybe then he would not have to do what he was about to do.

“Lance?”

He got a hum, Lance nibbling on the remains of a cookie as his eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion, remained trained on Blue’s form.

“Are you holding up alright?”

The cookie landed on the metal bench with a hollow plonk and Lance coughed as his lungs tried to get out the bit he had accidently inhaled. Hunk was quick to thump him on the back once.

“Thanks.”, Lance rasped, blinking back the tears that had sprung to his eyes from the ordeal, “I’m fine.”

And there it was, the one thing Hunk did not want to see: that damned smile that just did not reach his friend’s eyes.

“I call bullshit.”

Hunk never sugarcoated anything. Lance had once remarked on that and Hunk had been pretty panicked back then, because usually, when other kids told him that the inevitable ultimatum followed: drop it or we’re no longer friends.

Hunk had hated it, had hated that a lot of friendships had ended because he had a hard time keeping his opinions to himself and because his friends s up until then had all been unable to handle the truth when it was punching them in the face in the form of Hunk telling them “I told you.”

But Lance had surprised him, telling him that he could cut down on the whole ranting part but all in all he was glad he finally met someone who would let him know he was about to do something stupid and not let him run into his doom for laughs.

Hunk guessed that it was in parts this that made their friendship something meaningful and lasting.

Because they accepted their shortcomings with good natured humor and turned it into a strength.

As they sat here, in the hangar, Hunk watched as something sparked in Lance’s eyes.

He watched as hi friend’s face fell, as his shoulders sagged, as he caved in on himself as though he were a balloon with the air escaping it slowly. He watched as his friend unraveled, willingly and without pretense.

“It’s so hard.”

The tears came much faster than Hunk had anticipated, running down Lance’s nose and cheeks as he sniffed and rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand as though it might prevent the inevitable flow.

He was quick to put aside the plate and put and arm around Lance, his friend responding by winding long arms around his middle, burying his face into Hunk’s vest.

Hunk carded a hand through Lance’s hair as his friend tried to stifle his sobs. What for exactly, Hunk could not tell but he was not going to berate Lance for that. It would be unkind.

He gave Lance time, holding him close and hugging him, running his arm over his friend’s bicep or over his unruly locks, feeling Lance shudder and heave quiet sobs. He had to take a deep breath himself and Lance had not even said anything. He somewhat dreaded the moment he actually would. He felt entirely unprepared for this.

He had probably bitten off more than he could chew. There was no going back now though.

Lance sounded drowsy when he finally started talking. It was impossible to tell whether it was due to the crying or because he was for once not putting any effort into pretending to be energetic and happy.

“I’m really tired Hunk.”

“I figured.” He took another deep breath, Lance shifting slightly to readjust his position. “And I think we are all really tired by now.”

Lance did not nod in reply, did not do anything but breathe quietly. It took him a few minutes before he started talking again and Hunk waited patiently.

“I’m not just tired from fighting Hunk.”

“You probably miss home, right.”

It did not even need to be asked. It was a given.

Lance’s face buried into his shoulder. Where the thick fabric of his vest ended, he could feel moisture dampening his shirt. Lance was crying again but without any sound. He was most likely too exhausted for that.

“I miss them so much.” It was miserable whine, raw and painful. It echoed every bit of longing Hunk himself felt for Earth. For his mother and his dad. For his granny. He did not try to fight the moisture gathering and spilling from his eyes but he made sure his voice was steady. It was a monumental effort. It was the same effort Lance has put forth for them every single day.

“I know.”

“I want to call them, just to hear their voices and to let them know I didn’t leave without a note because I wanted to. I want them to know I didn’t run away or anything, that I’m fine but…” He gulped in a lungful of air, as though he were drowning. Drowning in sorrow, Hunk thought. “I know we can’t do that.”

Bullshit, he thought with sudden viciousness. They should talk about this with Allura. Even if they could not go back, they should at least be able to contact them. Yeah, the empire might still be standing but maybe they actually could invest some time into hacking one of the satellites orbiting Earth to just let their loved ones know they were still alive. He knew if anyone could pull it off it would be Pidge. And all things considered, they also might want to call back home. Hunk remembered that they at some pointed mentioned their mom being all alone.

But that was a plan to put into action at a later date.

“We’ll find a solution.”

There was a long stretch of nothing but when Lance finally spoke again, Hunk felt ice shoot through his veins.

“It’s been hurting so much… I feel so numb from it, Hunk. And it’s scary.”

Lance was downright trembling. Hunk held on tighter, began stroking him again, even burying his cheek into Lance’s hair. Anything to give Lance closeness and affection.

“What do you mean?”

It was hard to stay calm. It was hard to not be lured into the clutches of his own anxiety.

He looked down as he felt one Lance’s arms move and saw him tap on his chest with his index a few times, a hollow rap he still heard in the silence.

“I tried to ignore it. But it just keeps getting worse. It’s like this black hole that sucks up everything, and it’s so hard to hold onto any kind of feeling when it does that.”

Lance let his hand sink down into his lap and fell silent.

Hunk took back everything. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

He was a bad friend.

Lance went on, unknowing of the minor meltdown Hunk was having. And he never should know, because the guilt would eat Lance up alive if he ever found out Hunk had been distressed because of him.

“I can laugh and cry and get angry, yeah, but it feels like it doesn’t come from me. Or most of the time anyway.”

“I’m sorry, man.” And Hunk was. He really, really was.

“We’ll talk with Allura and we’ll somehow get back into contact with our families. I promise, okay? Okay?”

He insisted when Lance first made no comment, gave no indication that he was listening. He gave a weak affirmation, but the tone alone told Hunk that it was more to placate him than Lance genuinely believing him.

They would, or he at least, would bring forth his suggestion to Allura and Coran. He would fight them on it. He would fight anyone on this.

And once they’d done it, they could go back to saving enslaved planets, could go back to tracking down Shiro, could go back to being Defenders of the universe.

But before any of that, this would have to be fixed.

And Hunk could admit to himself that he too wanted nothing more than to hear his parent’s voices again one more time.

**Author's Note:**

> I admit I hurt myself writing this.


End file.
